Thus I Refute Thee
by mousestalker
Summary: Natia Brosca refuses to accept Alistair's decision.


Alistair looked sad as he finished his little speech.

"How do you see?"

Alistair looked surprised at Natia's question.

"What? What do you mean?"

"How do you see? How do you see with your head stuck so far up your arse?" The dark haired dwarf was furious.

"It's the right thing to do." Alistair stated flatly.

"It's the idiotic thing to do" Natia retorted. "Eamon put you up to this."

"I made this decision on my own." Alistair argued.

"My point exactly." the dwarf replied "You should have talked it over with me. From the royal viewpoint, you are being hasty. There's an archdemon to kill. Also, there are some facts that you are not in possession of. Nothing definite yet, but if we succeed and if we both survive, then you may wish to have not made such a hasty and idiotic decision."

"I need, Ferelden needs, an heir."

"Good luck with that" Natia snorted. "You've been a Gray Warden longer than I have. I'm more likely to conceive than you are to sire and both chances are pretty remote."

"Natia, we have to end this."

"We'll speak after the archdemon is killed." She turned away from him and walked out. The dwarven Warden was furious.

"Natia, it is over."

She spun around. "No. It. Is. Not. If you want to separate for a while, that's fine. I won't like it, but I will accept it. You have made a unilateral, very rash decision based upon inadequate information."

She turned and stalked off.

Oghren began laughing to himself. Morrigan's eyes danced with delight, then narrowed as she thought hard. Leliana lookrd sad. Bhelen stood on all four paws and walked around Alistair to follow his mistress. Shale and Sten looked at each other. Zevran and Wynne just looked sadly at Alistair.

After an awkward moment, Alistair left as well.

"Alistair, we need to talk."

The tall man looked down at his former lover.

"There's nothing to talk about. I must have a Queen."

"That's my point, exactly."

"What?"

"You need to marry a woman who brings advantages to Ferelden and you need an heir, right?"

"Yes. Preferably both. Which is why we can't marry."

"Which is exactly why we should marry."

"But we could never have children."

"True. The same applies if you never marry or if you marry fertile Myrtle, the banness in the tight red dress. We can always adopt you know. If anything, adopting the right child would strengthen your claim to the throne. Cailan has enough by blows to where you can take your pick."

"I have nephews and nieces?"

"Definitely. I've found five so far. Two are orphans."

"You mentioned advantages..."

Natia grinned to herself. Eamon may have primed him well, but she had Alistair considering it. The two months without sex had helped of course.

"If you marry a bann's daughter, then you gain some support from his family, but you lose support from his enemies. The same holds true with any foreign brides as well. Marry an Orlesian and you both gain and lose."

"What about you?"

"No one hates the dwarves, for one. More to the point, I'm a Paragon. I don't think you appreciate what that means. I'm a living ancestor. Ferelden gains a powerful ally and money in the form of trade. Further, if I promise Bhelen that none of them will ever return, he will start exiling his rivals rather than killing them. That means you get dwarven soldiers immediately."

The blond man's brow wrinkled in thought. Natia considered his expression. She could almost read his mind. If he married his paramour, the Chantry might be outraged. A timely conversion could turn the rage to approval. Dwarves made really great fighters and every kingdom needed more reliable soldiers. She knew, also, that the new king was being bombarded with money woes. Getting more cash without raising taxes would make him immensely popular.

She could read his decision when he made it.

"You're right, we should get married."

She beamed up at him.

He knelt down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him exuberantly. She had always enjoyed his smell, but the scent of clean Alistair made her giddy.

After a bit she withdrew.

He made to lean in again, but she forestalled him.

"Not until after the wedding, your Majesty. It's unlucky otherwise."

"I've never heard that!"

"Old dwarven custom" she lied smoothly. She loved him dearly, idiot that he was, but keeping him distracted would help immensely in negotiating the marriage contract.


End file.
